


City of Colors

by misura



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Crack, Nanda Parbat, Pre-Series, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4392344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said that, in ancient times, the city of Nanda Parbat claimed an average of six-point-two lives each day - which some scholars argue should be seven, given that an assassin who's lost a hand is not very likely to be able to kill anyone ever again.</p>
<p>Some people refer to this period as 'the good old days'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	City of Colors

**Author's Note:**

> this was written at some point during the second season, so before anyone had actually been to Nanda Parbat on-screen. I found it again recently and decided that, jossed or not, I still kind of liked it.

It is said that, in ancient times, the city of Nanda Parbat claimed an average of six-point-two lives each day - which some scholars argue should be seven, given that an assassin who's lost a hand is not very likely to be able to kill anyone ever again. (Their mistake, needless to say.)

Some people refer to this period as 'the good old days'.

Others simply call it what it is: 'that time before they had invented paintball'.

 

"Red," Sara said. "Seriously?"

Nyssa shrugged. "Washed improperly, it will become pink. Pink suits you."

"I hate pink."

"Then it will be fit punishment for not dodging the kill shot," Nyssa said, her voice a lot cooler than her eyes, which were definitely _not_ on Sara's possibly-soon-to-be-pink shirt.

Sara grinned. "Or I could just never wear clothes again."

Nyssa sighed and rose, reaching for her own clothes which were, of course, spotless, paintless and creaseless. "I will fetch us some breakfast."

"Thanks. Don't get killed."

The set of Nyssa's shoulders as she jumped out of the window implied she was mildly offended by the suggestion getting breakfast would present her with any kind of challenge.

 

Nanda Parbat is a city of delights. Its shops contain a multitude of wares that even the most cynical and jaded shopaholic would declare to be 'to die for'.

For example, the shoe shop on the corner of Water and 16th offers some very cute boots, at least half of which cannot be used to kill someone in an obvious way, or come complete with ceramic knife.

The bakery on 1st, too, is a popular early morning training run destination. The smell of freshly baked rolls and confections has lured many a would-be assassin to his or her doom - where for 'doom', read: paint splattered and therefore ruined outfit.

 

"This wouldn't have happened if we'd just gone to my place."

Nyssa licked a bit of honey off of her fingers. "You need the practice."

"What I _need_ is a break," Sara snapped. Nyssa arched en eyebrow at her. "What I _need_ is a good night's sleep, without worrying about people trying to kill me."

"You shouldn't worry about that."

"Let me guess: I should just focus on my training, instead?"

"It is only paint," Nyssa said. "And now that you have spent the night here, only a fool would seek to kill you in order to eliminate you as a rival for my affections. So, you see, you have no cause for worry anymore. Well, maybe a little. You may lose a bit of sleep every now and then."

Sara considered. "You said I just had a bit of a cold last week."

"Pit viper poison."

"And you said those three guys who jumped me two weeks ago were all part of the training program."

"I improvised."

"That building that collapsed on top of me?"

Nyssa pursed her lips. "You're beginning to sound somewhat paranoid."

"So you're saying that wasn't an accident, either. And then you expect me to be calm about all of this? To ... to risk my life only so I can see you again tonight?"

Nyssa scoffed. "Three death traps of an intermediate level and six guards, only two of which are permitted to break bones. By now, you should be able to handle twice that."

"So tonight there's going to be - what? Twelve guards? Eighteen?"

"Telling you in advance would defeat the purpose of the exercise," Nyssa said. "Clearly."

"Hey," Sara said. "You love me, right?"

Nyssa poured a bit of cream into her tea. "If I did, I surely shouldn't tell you to expect the traps to be more dangerous this evening, or to carry an extra grappling hook."

"Thanks. I love you, too. Although only God knows why."


End file.
